


You Can Do This

by TheLaziestMotherfucker



Category: Class (TV 2016)
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Relationship - Freeform, Flashbacks, Football | Soccer, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-15 05:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13024296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLaziestMotherfucker/pseuds/TheLaziestMotherfucker
Summary: Ram stared ahead at the empty goal at the other side of the football. His hands were on his knees as he was hunched over, catching his breath. You know how in movies and tv shows, sometimes a main character will blink in slow motion and they’ll take that opportunity to cut to flashbacks and stuff? This moment was like that. As Ram’s breathing slowed down and he stared at the goal, his mind cut to flashbacks. When he closed his eyes, it felt as if he was living it all over again.





	You Can Do This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mythicalquill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalquill/gifts).



> For Class Secret Santa! 
> 
> I hope I did this story justice!

Ram stared ahead at the empty goal at the other side of the football. His hands were on his knees as he was hunched over, catching his breath. You know how in movies and tv shows, sometimes a main character will blink in slow motion and they’ll take that opportunity to cut to flashbacks and stuff? This moment was like that. As Ram’s breathing slowed down and he stared at the goal, his mind cut to flashbacks. When he closed his eyes, it felt as if he was living it all over again. 

He envisioned his dad. He pictured him in the middle of the field. He pictured him in the goal. He could picture his dad anywhere in the field because Ram was positive that at some point he stood there. He watched the memories play out in his head. He listened and he observed. He tried to remind himself everything that his dad taught him. Yeah, his dad was the one who taught him about football. He taught him practically everything. Of course, as a footballer, he had coaches, and they helped him, but his dad was the one who taught him how to play. 

He couldn’t remember the first time he played with a football. He felt like that was too important of a memory to forget, but he had been so young. He didn’t remember the first time he kicked a ball, but Ram remembered the first time he actually played football. He played with his dad in their backyard. It was a sunny day in the spring. Ram remembered the season because the grass was really wet and muddy that afternoon, but it was warmer than it been before. Of course, it’s almost always muddy and wet in Shoreditch, and it wasn’t warm that, it was just _warmer_ than it had been previously. 

That day was different. Usually him and his dad would just kick the ball back and forth, but this time Ram wanted to do something else. He wanted to play a game. Instead of simply kicking it, he had run and kicked it at the same time. His dad had been caught off guard but he was quick to react. He had slowly run after Ram in the small backyard. His dad wasn’t a slow runner, but four year-old Ram was; so as parents usually do, he pretended that Ram was faster than he was. Ram remembered that he kicked the ball to one side of the fence and yelling and proclaiming that he won. 

After letting him win a few times, his dad decided to make it a bit more difficult: he shortened the goal. He had taken the two potted plants from beside their doorway and pitted them against the fence. Ram knew what a goal was, but he didn’t like them. No kid liked goals or restrictions. It makes it more difficult for them to win. But Ram wasn’t about to argue. He had been having fun, and he was confident that he was going to win against his father. 

So they played with a goal. It didn’t go as smooth as Ram had anticipated. Quite often he kicked the ball and it would hit the pot. The plants would be fine but the him and his dad would always jump at the fear that they broke the pot. After a few more hits, they decided to just make two of the chairs the sides of the goal. That way it easily bounced back and it didn’t harm the chairs. 

Even after that fix, it still didn’t go as well as Ram had hoped. He didn’t get as many goals as he thought he would. After a while, his father could see that he was growing upset, so they stopped playing. But they didn’t stop completely, no, they did not. Instead, they practiced. Ram stood in front of the goals and kicked the ball between them. They would change directions, distances, etc., and Ram practiced kicking the ball into the goal. He missed and he succeeded. No matter what the outcome was his father was proud of him. 

He remembered the end of that day. His parents were huge advocates of healthy food and such but his dad got him some sweets as a reward for working so hard. Ram had fun playing. It felt more like fun than it did work, but his father rewarded him because he wanted to improve, and he worked at it. You won’t improve if you don’t practice. Maybe his father had given him those sweets because he learned that lesson that day, and all on his own, too. 

That was one of his favorite memories of his father. He had many but that was one of his favorites. His father didn’t know it that day but Ram fell in love with it. With the help of his dad, he discovered his passion that day. The two had played in the background for ages but something was different about that day, and it ended up meaning the world to Ram. It meant more now since…Since everything happened. 

Ram shook his head like he was trying to toss the memory out of his mind. 

Focus on that day - that wonderful day back in his childhood. He needed - he _had_ to focus on that day. For the sake of his sanity he needed to focus on it. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to remember it as vividly as he could. He hoped that he remembered it so well that he would feel like he was back there, but he doubted that would happen. Ram inhaled deeply and let that good memory consume his mind. 

He didn’t care that he was currently standing in the middle of a football field, he just needed to remember it. Maybe he was scared of losing that moment. 

He remembered how his dad’s arms felt around him. He couldn’t exactly remember what it felt like when he was little - he has grown a lot since then - but Ram could recall how it felt the last time they hugged. The arms of a parent should always feel safe, and Ram did. He had always felt safe. He remembered his dad picking him up and hugging him tightly whenever he got a goal. Thinking back on it, kicking a ball at a fence wasn’t all that impressive, but his father acted like it was the most amazing thing in the world. 

Ram knew that acting that way about your kid's every action could possibly make them too arrogant and cocky, but Ram was little and new to the sport, his father was just building up his confidence. Ram was cocky, but he never pretended like he was perfect. He was never above taking criticism, and he wasn’t one of those dickheads that refused to work with his teammates either. His dad probably helped him with those lessons, too. While his dad had supported him and was always proud of him, he had always given Ram criticism. Well, maybe criticism wasn’t the right word, it was more like advice. 

He was very gentle with his advice. He wasn’t like one of those adults who made it sound like what you were doing was awful, he had given it as a suggestion to improve. He had made Ram think but never feel bad. He had always left it up to Ram if he wanted to listen to it or not. 

For a while, football was just their little thing. It was something they did for fun. They would go to the football field and play for hours. There was a real proper goal at the field for Ram to practice in. There was more running space as well. They weren’t confined to a tiny backyard anymore.

When Ram lost his leg, he didn’t think that he would be able to play football anymore. Ram had already lacked belief in himself but his Coach had made it worse. He was the example of a bad coach. He was a dick. He didn’t care about the further development of his players, only about winning, and the second Ram struggled to play, his Coach turned on him, and he continued to get onto Ram about his form. He didn’t do anything to help. He didn’t give any advice. He stated it constantly without giving any advice on how it improve it. Isn’t that a coach’s job? Aren’t they supposed to coach you on how to be better? Yeah, Coach Dawson was a dick. 

But like a good father, his dad cared. He didn’t know about his leg and he didn’t know that he had witness Rachel die right in front of him, but his dad did know that he was heartbroken over her “disappearance.” He tried to comfort Ram but of course it didn’t really work. In the end, Ram told his dad what happened. With Rachel, with his leg, he told him everything that happened at prom. His dad believed him. Ram thought that it would be difficult to ignore the leg, but there were still people out here who would try to convince themselves that something else had happened. The students at Coal Hill do it all the time. They make up different stories, despite the fact that they know the truth. Who was to say that their parents were different?

But to his relief, his dad believed him, and he supported him. Not only that, but he helped him. They talked about the crack – they talked about the aliens – and it helped. It helped a lot actually. Talking with his dad about it had made him feel a bit better. Not only that, but then his dad knew how to help him. Ram still wanted to play. His love for football hadn’t faltered. His confidence had, but not his love for the sport. He wanted to improve, and his dad knew how to help him. 

So that night, his dad had lined up a bunch of soccer balls in the backyard, and in the middle of the yard was a water bottle. Ram stood in place and kicked each ball with his amputee leg. With each kick, he got closer and closer to the water bottle. And soon enough he had actually hit it. Ram wanted to cry when he had. After a week of frustration and beat downs, he had finally succeeded, and that had made all the difference. He didn’t quite go back to believing in himself, but he had felt better. 

His dad helped him. He spent his weekends practicing with his dad. It was different from that time in the backyard. He spent hours kicking or trying to kick into the goal. It was frustrating but his dad believed in him. 

He tried to think back to everything his dad has said. He tried to think about all of his advice. _Listen_ , Ram repeated to himself. _Remember_.

He took a few steps back with his eyes on the goal. He thought back to all those memories, all those moments, all those lessons. He needed to remember them. Not just for himself, but in the memory of his father as well. He wanted to listen to his advice. He wanted to remember his words. His voice. He didn’t want to forget. He couldn’t forget. Not now. Definitely not now. He never wanted to forget his father’s voice, but there were no guarantees for the future. Aging can change people. There was no telling what it would do to Ram.  

He stared at the goal. If this were a movie, Ram knew that it would be an intense, emotional moment. He knew that because that was how it felt. If this moment was a movie, these next few moments would be in slow motion. In Ram’s head it was. He picked up his feet and started to run towards the ball. He felt nervous and hopeful, but most importantly determined. 

 _You can do this_ , Ram repeated to himself. 

And then he kicked it.

And then he scored. 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, any feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
